all war

all war
buries children
in an earthen wound

i put my full
weight into
my conviction:

the wound is a hungry
mouth, and
all war is gluttony

Protest / Protect

shout a little bit louder for those six feet underground whose choices we still carry out in lockstep motion

shout a little bit louder for those whose crimes are whispered, typed on smartphones, arrangements made for years to come

shout a little bit louder for the mothers in minivans and fathers at football practice parking lots

make your voice deafening, make your wishes for freedom as loud as your voice will carry, the weight of it heavy with promise of a new day

Terrorist

"I'm not mad at you," I say
as you pull a gun on me.
"Fucking bitch," you say
as I die in the street.
This is the difference
between me and you.